Chapter 135 Rocco
The morning is too quiet for my liking. In our universe, quiet all too frequently equals someone's burning something somewhere, and they're just waiting for us to get a whiff of the smoke.
I sat at my desk in the west study, morning sunlight filtering through the tall windows, when one of our men stood in the doorway. His stance was rigid, nerves writhing beneath his uniform. "Boss," he said, clearing his throat, "we just received a shipment coming in through the south docks. The crates, they bore a mark."
My pen stopped moving. "A mark?"
He nodded quickly. "Camillo's mark."
For an instant, I just stood there and gazed at him, the name a refrain that I hadn't heard in years, a specter that had been dug up and returned to the light. Camillo.
The man who used to be my brother in every way but blood. The same man who had once sworn loyalty over whiskey and gunfire, then put a bullet in my back when the stakes got too high.
I leaned back slowly, tension humming in my shoulders. “You’re sure?”
"Yes, boss. Same symbol of the snake. Black, carved into the wood. Dock boys said they noticed it on two crates before they vanished."
Riccardo showed up just as I chased the man went away. Shirtsleeves buttoned halfway, hair mussed, the usual smirk plastered on his face. "You look like you swallowed glass," he collapsed into the chair opposite me. "What is it?"
"Camillo's symbol," I growled.
That wiped the smirk clean off his face. “You’re kidding.”
“No. South docks. Two crates. Disappeared before our men could track them.”
He cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “We made sure that bastard was gone. Dead and buried. He should return to his grave already.”
“Apparently, someone forgot to nail the coffin shut.”
Before Riccardo could respond, Rafael entered with that intent, studious look which signaled that he'd already worked three steps ahead in his head. "You two appear to have trouble home to roost," he remarked, sitting down.
"Camillo," Riccardo answered softly.
Rafael's brow furrowed, his mouth pursing into a line. "That name again."
"His symbol was found on crates coming through our docks," I said to him. "Perhaps coincidence. Perhaps someone trying to screw with us. But if it's him really—"
"—then he's alive," Rafael finished ominously.
We sat there for a moment, only the sound of the clock ticking between us.
Finally, I talked. "We need to know what's inside those crates and where they're headed. If Camillo's still alive, he's not doing it on a whim. He'll have a reason. He always does."
"I'll have our men follow the docks and question the handlers," Rafael answered. "No one comes in or out of our ports without a sit-down with me anymore."
Riccardo nodded, standing. "I'll call Leo and Fiorella's logistics. If someone is messing with our routes, she'll catch on before we do."
At the mention of her name, a flicker of warmth spread through the cold tension in my chest. Fiorella was in her own world lately, tending to her business while making sure her uncle doesn’t attack again. I’d told her to rest, but she wasn’t the type to stay still when the world around her was moving.
A knock on the door shook me out of my daze. Rosalia entered, resting a hand on her head. She looked better now, more robust, her complexion had returned after being stabbed, and that haunted look in her eyes was finally starting to fade away.
"Good morning," she whispered, stepping in. Rafael's face relaxed immediately in that special way it only did when it was turned towards her.
“ I hadn't thought you were awake yet," he said to her.
"I am," she replied weakly, smiling. "I just needed to talk to you." Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us before returning to Rafael. "I want to go home for a bit. To see my mother."
Rafael froze, his words hanging there like a gun pointed at someone's head. "Rosalia, you know it's still not safe. We're still in the middle of clearing the Valentis from our backs."
"I'll be careful," she said, her tone firm. "I haven't laid eyes on her since the attack. I need to make sure she's okay myself."
He was about to object when I gave him a look. "Go with her," I whispered.
Rafael turned to me. "You're serious?"
"She'll go either way," I said. "At least this way, she'll be safe. If she's asking, it's because she wants to have her mind clear. Let her."
He breathed heavily, tension draining from his shoulders. "Fine. But I'm not taking my eyes off her for an instant."
Rosalia smiled warmly, moving to kiss his cheek. "That's all I ask."
Riccardo threw up his hands in an melodramatic gesture. "Great. Another love story happening in the middle of a war of crime. Perhaps I should open up a dating club and not work in a club."
Rosalia laughed. "You're just jealous, Riccardo."
"Jealous?" He chuckled. "I'm chased by women every evening at that club, thank you very much. But it's boring now that the girls don't drop by anymore. The women only show up for the De Luca charm."
I snorted. "The De Luca stupidity, you mean."
"Call it what you like, brother, but the women call it irresistible." He grinned widely, leaning back in his chair like a man with nothing to worry about whatsoever. But beneath the grin, I could feel, he'd picked up on it too. The tension. The air in our universe leaning again.
Later that evening, the house was quiet again. The others were out, Rafael with Rosalia to visit her family, Riccardo to the club , no doubt making hell simply to amuse himself.
I stayed at the office, going through shipment manifests when my phone beeped on the desk. An unfamiliar number.
I didn't answer for a moment. My belly clenched, instincts screaming.
Then curiosity won out.
A single text blinked across the screen:
“We’ll C soon.”
My pulse thudded. The capital letter wasn’t a coincidence.
C.
Camillo.
I stared at the screen for a long time before setting the phone down, the message still glowing like a warning flare.
The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls pressing in, the ghosts of old betrayals stirring.
Camillo had once promised me brotherhood. Then he’d shot me in the back.
If he had truly returned from the dead… this time, I'd be the one to fire first and fire last.
End him completely that no demon will ever be able to resurrect him.